Desperate Times
by Theeph
Summary: The trio have grown into their late teens, each with their own stories to tell and scars to heal. They are forced suddenly and violently to confront their past, and future, as vast armies march and a world is swallowed in war.
1. All quiet on the Northern Front

A loud thud announced the victory before anyone had time to state the obvious. Ren, an even tempered youth with pale blonde shoulder-length hair and a lop-sided grin nodded in concession as he withdrew his final Pokemon. His opponent did likewise, happy that the other boy, a year or two younger, showed such maturity. As the pale red glow receded into the shiny little ball Ash was holding, he smirked and made his trademark two fingered salute. His thunder was slightly stolen by a disgusted snort.

"Act your age, jerk," Misty said in exaggerated annoyance. Ash smiled at her endearing way of verbally kicking his feet out from under him. A skill she had acquired in the past few years, which complemented his newfound ability to see it for what it was.

"Time enough for that when I'm old and dying, Mist'. Wasted too much on it already," he winked at her, and flashed his most charming smile. She rolled her eyes.

"You should spend some time realizing how unimpressive your attempts at being manly are," she retorted.

Ash screamed in a high pitched voice, "but you still owe me a bike!" and he widened his eyes comically, sticking his tongue out as far as possible in imitation of a licking gesture. She frowned with irritation, genuine this time, and mouthed an obscenity at him before turning to the other trainer who was approaching slowly.

"Hey Ren. Nice battle there," commented Misty warmly, as was rewarded with a flash of his distinctive grin. Once, long ago, that smile had won him the attentions of Misty, not to mention a plethora of other women. Misty referred to it now, a little derisively, as 'the lady-killer'. That, however, was water under the bridge along with many things that had transpired in the seven years since Ash had first left Pallet town and written off her cute little bicycle. Misty had loved that goddamn thing. She giggled slightly at the memory and how ridiculous it seemed now.

"Oh Misty, you wound me so!" Ren pouted in a convincing show of hurt feelings, "surely there is no need for cruel sarcasm and spiteful laughter?"

Misty's giggles actually became laughter at this, and Ash added his as well. There was something about that grin coupled with the French accent that made it hard not to laugh when he wanted you to. Even Ash, who viewed him in an uneasy context and hated giving him an inch could not begrudge him this much. The group had met Guillaume Rennes, Ren to his friends, at this very spot a year ago exactly. It was a small courtyard, slightly overgrown and out of the way, in the city of Lachot.

Quite departed from the towering offices, hurrying citizens and near-tangible wall of sound that made Lachot the fluorescent macrocosmic anthill it was, the neglected courtyard was relatively tranquil. It featured an uneven cobbled surface and smooth carved stone edging, disrupted by tree roots here and there, which imparted a sense of how ancient it was, although the reality was much less romantic owing to it being a mere forty years in age, and simply overlooked by a clerical slip-up.

Still for all who entered this refuge, whatever their purpose, it left them with a certain magical feeling, like they were privy to some close-guarded secret. The pale statue of a woman with an urn, missing a few fingers from her left hand and part of her face where a crack had spread and dislodged a sliver of stone, observed the three teenagers stoically. A low flying bird deposited a not-inconsiderable amount of muck onto the rounded shape of the stone urn.

Ash, who was staring off into space rather than pay attention to the others, saw this and snorted in bemusement before returning to the conversation. It seemed to consist of small talk and heavy, insincere flirting between the two. Not much difference to the bird, Ash mused to himself dryly. Ren turned his attention to him suddenly, and for a moment he thought he had said it aloud.

"Where is Brock anyway?" asked Ren, "I was looking forward to our rematch."

Somewhat relieved Ash replied, "Off on another of his little romances. This time he's attached himself to some chick called Alice, 'lives south of here in Siroqe. It's a little village, complete with white picket fences all in rows."

"Mmm, I have heard it mentioned," Ren mumbled before exclaiming, "Alors! But when did this happen? It is recent, no?"

Ash nodded. It had been rather abrupt, really. Two months ago he had announced that he was going to stay for a while to study Pokemon in the area, which effectively meant he was 'chasing skirt' and had found someone worth his time. Alice seemed nice, sure, and had lots of things in common with Brock, but Ash couldn't help resent her a little. She had taken his friend and travel companion from him and it hurt more than he was willing to admit.

Seeing the depressive cloud that seemed to descend over them and having worn out his banter with Misty, Ren decided to cut the annual get-together short and say his goodbyes.

"Well children, it has been fun but I had better take my leave of you," he said in an overly-formal tone, lightening the mood somewhat, "until next year then or whenever we bump into each other before that."

"Be safe, man," Ash advised with genuine concern, feeling that one of them at least would need it. Ren returned the gesture, and exchanged similar sentiments with Misty. Then, all too soon, he was gone leaving Ash and Misty alone both silently wondering what their next move would be.

"So..." Ash began, and stopped short as a heavy deluge unexpectedly began to rain down on both of them.

"Hotel," Misty answered the unasked question and they hurried for cover.

Misty stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a soft white towel, drying her hair with another. Ash looked up from his Pokemon documentary, and blushed slightly before returning to the television. Misty, slightly uncomfortable, dumped her wet clothes in the laundry basket and sat down on the bed, continuing to dry her water-darkened strands. Ash didn't move.

"Your turn, Ash," Misty prompted and was rewarded with a fleeting expression of annoyance and a grumble.

"I'm almost dry anyway," he lied, "and I'm really enjoying this show."

Misty rolled her eyes saying "It's that or I change in front of you, and then I'd have to beat you up for peeping." The poor boy's cheeks reddened further.

"Ok, ok. We can't have that, can we?" he said with a serving of sarcasm, and stood. His shirt made a moist sucking sound as he peeled it off his chest, and he felt a sudden rush of cold over his muscles. Tossing the shirt onto Misty's discarded clothes in the basket, he threw his hat carelessly over his shoulder where it somehow squelched onto his traveling bag. A disgruntled squeak sounded from inside, and a pair of yellow ears pricked up from inside. Misty grinned.

"So that's where you were!" she exclaimed.

"Well it explains that snoring sound I've been hearing all day," grunted Ash as he turned on the taps and closed the door.

Misty idly watched Pikachu emerge from the bag, dislodging the hat that was balanced on his head. He then shook all over, spraying Misty lightly with water, before jumping up onto Ash's bed and padding around in a circle, scratching the covers up to make himself a comfortable resting place. Misty smiled slightly at this, letting her thoughts wander back over the past year.

Seeing Ren today had the unexpected result of opening old wounds and pitching her into the arms of nostalgia. She remembered the first days of meeting him fondly, and her burgeoning crush, then all the tension that had ensued between them both and Ash... what a nightmare, and finally the end to it all when they all agreed to part company. It must have been hard for Brock too, as he was basically unaware of all that was going on, yet he wore the negatives, barely seeing either Ash or Misty for the duration of their visit, and being constantly confused by it all. Misty was glad he had never complained though. After that, they all got the hell out of here, and resumed their meanderings.

They had journeyed through a lot of open country, caught more Pokemon, deepened their friendship and made more enemies. Brock broke his arm in a nasty fall, Ash and Misty shared a kiss, they found a mysterious artifact simply called 'the blue orb', and had it stolen from them before they could determine its effect, if any. Puberty began to work on them, and they were all physically changed to some extent, but their real growth was emotional and mental. Having said that, Misty was amused how immature they could sometimes be.

Then one day they had encountered a disgusting man called Guan, who had made trouble for them at every turn. Unlike Team Rocket, he was unusually cruel and did not rely solely on Pokemon to do his fighting, having knocked one of Ash's teeth out and blackened his eye in a vicious punch. He further proved his sadism by torturing Brock, and some of their creatures, and threatened Misty with things she still shuddered to think upon. She was thankful that he was still rotting in a jail somewhere, presided over by one of the seemingly endless Officer Jenny clones. The damage had been done however, and Ash was never the same with them. She felt he was embarrassed to lose face in front of them, and still a little paranoid about being hit. It was, she thought, something that he would have to work out at one point or another, but she could easily see he still felt shame for being what he must regard as 'cowardly'.

They had all gone back to their respective home towns after that, to visit their families, and reaffirm themselves. Ash was surprised and dour to find that his mother and Professor Oak had moved in together without telling him, but he soon became used to it. Misty had found she was no longer 'the runt' after a giant argument with her sisters, and was offered a place performing in the gym. She declined. Brock, she grinned, Brock jumped into a pink frilly apron and didn't leave the kitchen the entire time. Some people lived for others, which was something she found both admirable and alien.

When the trio finally got back together again, Misty realized that they had all been incredibly changed by the year's events. She had not noticed it happening but it was so apparent after not seeing the boys for so long. Ash hid it well but he was depressed a lot of the time, and prone to long protracted silences, contrasted by his alarming joviality when he indulged in any alcohol (more frequently than she would have liked). Brock seemed normal, even more cheerful than usual, but she felt that he had acquired a self-imposed obliviousness to the group's personal problems as a way of dealing. She herself... Misty sighed. She had become cold. The edges of her heart were icing up, slowly, but with a deadening insistence.

Misty sighed and shook off the dismal thoughts. She was staying in a medium quality hotel with good quality pillows, her best friend, and the world's cutest rat. Things could get a lot worse. In fact, that pillow looked awfully good. Misty marveled at how soft and yielding it was as her head hit it. She closed her eyes, ignoring the damp towel she was still wrapped in, and listened to the steady sound of streaming water from the bathroom. Inevitably she drifted into the sleep she was not too concerned with fighting off.

She opened her eyes a crack and let the soft, buttery curtain of sunshine pour in. A few moments of darkness and light followed, before she said a sad goodbye to sleep and sat up. The realization now dawned on her that she was underneath the covers and, apparently, naked. She instinctively reached for a glass of water, momentarily forgetting where she was. In spite of this, she found the glass, and also a note attached to it in Ash's messy handwriting. Misty squinted at it, and finally made out the words:

You're so predictable )

Gone for stroll. Enjoy your breakfast!!

Lunch – 2:30 Plaza Café. Front desk give you directions.

See ya then! Ps. I didn't peek, honest.

-A

Misty shoved her tangled hair out of her eyes, which she directed to the bedside locker. A plastic-covered croissant and a small tub of yoghurt sat there. She smiled and took a drink of the cool refreshing water. Sighing contentedly she wiped a little of the liquid from her lips and unwrapped the croissant.

Ash was sprawled hedonistically in the chair. His legs as far apart as possible, his arms thrown over the back rest, and his head uplifted watching the clouds pass. He heard the harsh scrape as another of the cast iron chairs found a passenger. He brought his gaze back down to earth, already grinning. Misty looked radiant as she grinned back. He paused for a moment to take her in, as well as the beautiful scenery. A picturesque sky, dotted here and there with rippling clouds that were painfully bright, looked down on the luscious green ferns, antiquated lamp-posts, and light smattering of pedestrians. Misty's straight orange hair was gleaming as it flowed freely from her head and danced off her shoulders. Her eyes, a deeper blue than the sky and more akin to the ocean, twinkled in the sunlight as she stared at him and glanced around at the scenery and menu.

He violently threw himself into a more reasonable sitting position and laughed softly.

"Hey Mist'. Beautiful day, huh?" he said. She grinned and nodded, making a sound of assent.

"Thanks for breakfast, by the way," said Misty. It was Ash's turn to nod and smile.

"Another guest recommended this café to me. It apparently has good food, great coffee, and is really... cheap," he finished with a self-deprecating snort, earning a giggle.

"I'm sure it will be fine. After weeks on the road and getting soaked yesterday anything will..." she said before abruptly halting, "hey! Is that baklava?"

Her eyes desperately followed a passing tray and she rose slightly from her seat, craning her neck. Ash felt a warm tickle in his stomach as he disguised his mirth and observed her antics.

"That'll be baklava then," said Ash as he mimed crossing off an item from an imaginary notepad.

"What?" Misty asked absently, turning her head to him for a moment before resuming her surveillance of the rogue dessert.

Ash caught the eye of a pretty brunette waitress, and returned her polite expression as she approached their table.

"Hi, how are you going?" Ash asked pleasantly. She smiled and took a pen out from behind her ear.

"What will it be?"

"Well about six baklava to start, and then..." he began, but was cut off by a deafening low-pitched wail, apparently coming from a set of sirens mounted on top of a tall pole at the end of the street.

A giant plasma screen mounted on a near by building stopped playing the repetitive reel of advertisements and suddenly showed a harried looking woman in a business suit sitting, hands clasped, behind a burnished wooden desk. Her voice blared out from unseen speakers and echoed around the buildings. Ash could hear slightly offset versions of the same speech from far away, and he realized it was playing in other parts of the city too.

"Citizens of Lachot, this is your mayor speaking. We have recently been informed that in just less than six hours the city will be occupied by a hostile invasion force of unknown origin. Please remain calm. There is no reason for panic. We ask that those wishing to leave the city do so in an orderly and considerate manner. To those who chose to stay, be assured that I and my cabinet will remain, and we shall pursue a peaceful and safe solution. To that end, please proceed to your homes and secure them as much as possible. We advise you to ignore anyone outside and that you remain near your televisions and radios for further updates. Once again, please keep off the streets, remain calm and..." her professional tone broke slightly as she continued, "...and pray. This message will repeat every five minutes from now on."

Ash, Misty, the waitress, and everyone on the streets and in the café stopped in a moment of shocked, terrified silence, broken only by the smashing of crockery as it fell from limp hands. The vibrant colors of the day were instantly leeched away. Ash turned to meet Misty's wide eyes and he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but what words did he have? The silence, all around them, tremendously pregnant with unspoken words lasted just a moment like a terrible soap bubble inexorably thinning itself into oblivion. It burst and the screaming began.

Statuesque people became blurs of activity as they all scurried in different directions. The waitress dropped her pen and notepad, and accidentally knocked misty from her chair as she sprinted out of the café and down the street. Ash immediately jumped up and held his hand out to Misty. She rose and they regarded each other, mutually experiencing the leaden weight in their stomachs. They gathered their belongings mechanically, mutely observing the chaotic tide of people reduced to animals. It was going to get much, much worse. At that moment Ash cursed everyone and everything he could think of.

They had gone and landed themselves in a war.


	2. Fight or flight

Two people stood next to an upturned table in a sea of screaming voices and darting flesh. Their world had been turned inside out, and for the second time in as many days Ash and Misty had a desperate need for shelter.

"Ok..." began Misty, trying desperately to keep her voice under control, "what are our options?"

"Leave the city?" Ash asked.

"Most of our stuff is back at the hotel," she reminded him, "we could go back there and barricade it up."

Ash shook his head, "the building would be too vulnerable. We should hurry back there and get our stuff then..."

"What is it?" Misty nearly screamed the question, so shocked by the abrupt halt in his train of thought.

"I..." Ash clenched his eyes closed, "I left Pikachu in at the centre this morning. It's at the other end of town and in the opposite direction to the hotel."

Misty cursed at that, knowing all too well that it would be nearly impossible to fight their way through the crowds in time. She saw Ash's solution perhaps even before he recognized it, and instantly moved to object but he cut her off.

"I'm going to get Pikachu. There's no way we'll have enough time to do both, so you go get our bags from the hotel and I'll meet you back here as soon as I can," he informed her grimly. She shook her head to disagree, but he held up a hand. "It's the only way this is going to work, you know it, and we don't have time to argue."

Misty glared at him darkly for a moment, and then nodded with resolve.

"Ok. Be careful Ash."

"You too Misty," he cautioned, "The mayor said the army gets here at about eight. If I'm not back here by six then get the hell away from here and find whatever shelter you can."

"It won't come to that," she said, whirling around and sprinting in the direction of the hotel before he could shatter the possible lie. Ash nodded and smiled mirthlessly.

"I hope so," he murmured, and then he too began the fight towards his own destination.

The desperate pleas of the mayor played out in poorly defined rows of light as she continued her broadcast on a large television on display in a shop window. Suddenly her features distorted and then shattered as the brick imploded the screen, showering the TV casing and hastily secured merchandise stands with broken glass. The wretched fingers of a couple of different looters began to pick over the valuables.

Ash flashed past them, not noticing or caring. He was concentrating hard on avoiding any interpersonal contact. Already he had collided with another person, knocking them to the ground, and as a result had been forced to stop and help them. He also had a painful buzzing in his head from the encounter that did not help a bit.

He swerved his path to hug the wall of a nearby building, closely avoiding becoming stuck between more looters and rioters and an armored police vehicle with a high pressure water hose. His hair whipped into his eyes from the back draft of a screaming man in an expensive looking business suit as he ran past, apparently blind to everyone. Ash was forced slightly sideways and he scraped his right arm and cheek against the coarse red brickwork, barely noticing.

He ran along an overpass, blocked by a car lying on its side, and glanced along the intersecting street below. For as long as the street ran all Ash could see were blocked or abandoned cars, people running, or looting, or rioting, and fires that had broken out in several small businesses.

Ash estimated he was about a third of the way to the Pokemon center, and was about to redouble his efforts when he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. There had been two murky shadows moving erratically in a narrow space between buildings. He almost ignored it, but he felt that the scream he heard was slightly more immediate than the panicking crowd. He hesitated only a moment before making a decision.

When he reached the alley he saw a woman in a white blouse and a pale yellow miniskirt backing away, terrified, from a tall man with dirty white hair in a blue denim jacket.

"Bob, no!" she screamed, but he did not halt his advance. Ash pounced.

He hit the taller man in the back at full force, using his shoulder to knock him as hard as possible. 'Bob' had a moment to let a startled yelp escape before he found hard asphalt pressing painfully into his cheek. Ash ground his knee into the other's shoulder blades and grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head up. Ash pressed his lips close to Bob's ear.

"Lady said 'no', Bob," he growled menacingly, becoming slightly animalistic in his anger. He slammed the head down, knocking him out. Ash estimated he had bought about fifteen minutes.

He glanced at the woman. She hadn't moved, but she now looked at him fearfully instead.

"Are you hurt?" Ash asked, but the woman just stared at him with bulging eyes. Finally something clicked and she screamed, pushing past him as she fled. Ash shook his head.

"Welcome," he grunted, and ordered his burning limbs to carry him onward.

After a claustrophobic crush of hotel occupants which sent Misty's nerves into overdrive, she opted for the stairs. Only eleven flights, and infinitely preferable to an overcrowded elevator designed to carry fifteen people. The muted carpet patterns of deep green vines intertwining over a burgundy background made Misty's vision swim slightly as her feet powered over the steps. Many others were racing up and down here also, and for one brief moment of madness she imagined that this is what it must be like to run through a train carriage in Calcutta.

By the tenth floor her left hamstring cramped up and she was reduced to pulling herself the rest of the way with her arm on the guard rail. Blessedly when she finally reached her floor it was reasonably uninhabited. She coaxed herself into a brisk walk that wasn't too painful as she scanned the shiny brass room numbers.

"Fifteen... seventeen... ah!" she scrabbled with the key, trying to get it in the lock of number nineteen. Her hands were shaking too violently, and she forced herself to take a breath.

Back in control again, Misty swiftly unlocked the door, and closed it behind her. She began throwing their belongings onto the bed, along with some fresh towels and the contents of the mini-bar. She paused suddenly, and turned to the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out upon the city. Misty walked slowly toward the image of destruction and gasped. It seemed that everyone was too impatient to wait for the army and had started early. Smoke billowed slowly up in vaporous tunnels from several sections of the city, and she could see the angry flashing lights of the emergency services as they tried to reach the worst areas.

To her dismay, Misty realized that the light was already beginning to leave the day, and soon it would be sunset. Had it really taken her that long to reach the hotel? On the horizon she caught a glimpse of some form of aircraft, most likely a helicopter, moving about. A large but distant dust cloud was also apparent which she recognized, to her horror, as the filth churned up by the approaching tanks and troop transports.

Her watch read four-thirty. The seconds raced on in a blur, and it finally jogged her from the window. She ran to their luggage and blindly started shoving items in.

Ash stumbled to a halt after a half-hour of solid running. He put his hands to his stomach and waited as his heart stopped straining against his ribcage and the rhythmically pulsing spots in front of his eyes began to fade. His breath slowed and he wiped the sweat from his dripping forehead like a sheet of rain.

He knew he was in no danger from the attacker, but a greater sense of alarm penetrated his mind. Memories of his thoughts at the time, and the way all conscience had vanished to facilitate protection of the woman at any cost, crashed upon him like waves on a shore. The thought that he was capable of such primal indifference terrified him. He knew he would have killed the man without a thought, had it come to that.

Ash bent low and vomited on the ground. Fiery bile seared the back of his throat and he lost all sense of balance for a moment before he stabilized himself and wiped his mouth off. It was as if the horror he felt at the darker, more desperate side of himself was flushed away with the contents of his stomach and all that was left was a shameful tingle, and a realization of just how much precious time he was wasting in self indulgence.

It was almost five! The streets were beginning to empty and the light was rapidly failing. Ash also realized that he must have fled blindly from his earlier encounter in the wrong direction and he had all too much ground to make up. His limbs shot into motion and he ignored the pain that tore through their overworked sinews.

Misty chewed her nails anxiously, and looked over her shoulder. It was too quiet for her liking. She sat in the shadows, on a low wooden stool inside the Plaza Café, shielded somewhat by the chaotic array of upturned tables and chairs. From her observation area she watched the grey concrete outside turn the color of a fresh picked orange and stark black shadows grew long from trees and street lamps. The buildings' mirrored faces were just too painful to view as they reflected the sunset in all its blinding glory.

Where the hell was Ash? It shouldn't be taking this long. He had left her three hours ago, which was easily enough time to make it there and back, even considering the state of the streets. She paused from her vigil to reach in to her backpack and draw out a charcoal colored knitted jumper. She slipped it over her head and immediately felt relief from the rapidly descending chill of evening.

When she looked up, she could see a silhouette of a man rendered indefinite by the light.

"Ash?" she called out gingerly.

"Not quite love, but soon that's all this city will be," wheezed the man who was possessed with a gravelly, unpleasant voice.

A bolt of alarm passed through Misty's body from the center of her chest to her outer extremities like an electric shock. It must have showed on her face.

"Aw, don' worry love," the man drawled, "show an old man some comfort and I'll be good to ya."

Misty forced her shock, and fright, away with a thought. She whipped her right arm out and grabbed a half-full wine bottle. The violent sound of smashing glass echoed through the silence like a volatile obscenity uttered in a place of reverence.

"I'll show you comfort all right," she growled at him, standing up and brandishing the business-end of the broken bottle at the startled man. He backed off a little. There was a faint whistling noise now coming from somewhere, but neither of them had time or compulsion to notice.

"C'mon girlie, you shouldn't be messin' with sharpies," he mock chided, but the alarm was apparent in his voice.

Misty swiped at him again with the weapon and he decided to cut his losses and flee. She sunk back on her stool with relief and let her breath out. It was lucky she had sat down when she had because, no sooner had she assured herself that the danger was over, there was a thunderous roar from some other part of the city and every piece of glass in the café, including the broken bottle still clutched in Misty's hand, shattered explosively.

Oblivious to the blood dripping down her fingers onto the ground, Misty ran to the door and scanned the surroundings frantically, her mouth agape. A giant column of foul black smoke was curling into the peach colored sky like a demonic, amorphous jellyfish.

Her stomach suddenly felt very, very heavy.

"Pika!"

A nervous Pikachu had only a moment to look relieved as Ash grabbed him and reversed direction without breaking his gait. Ash nodded once to the harried Nurse Joy behind the counter before sprinting for the exit. The entrance was not barricaded like he had expected and it had given him no trouble on the way in, but he saw the two burly looking security guards now, with bandoliers of Pokeballs and biceps like tree trunks and he knew now why the centre had not been looted like everywhere else.

The guards followed him with their slightly paranoid eyes as he walked past them and exited. Ash noticed now what he had not when he ran inside. The sun had set and the sky was that indefinable shade of intermingling blue and orange, which precedes night. If Ash was alarmed by this, he was truly startled to see the man from earlier staring at him intently.

"You!" Ash managed, before he was lying on the ground with a stinging pain in his jaw.

Suddenly the man was on top of him with his hands around Ash's throat. His grip was so tight that Ash could feel the fingers pinching into his skin while the pressure of an unshed breath built up behind his crushing esophagus. With bright flashing coronas exploding across Ash's darkening vision he managed to locate the other's head and swipe with a powerful fist. He could hear Pikachu going crazy and felt small shocks as, he assumed, the Pokemon electrocuted the man and it passed into Ash himself.

The grip around his throat loosened a fraction and his vision cleared enough to see the man now upright and trying to swat Pikachu. Ash raised a knee back, almost to his chest, and kicked the man forcefully in the chest. The man stumbled backward off Ash but managed to remain on his feet.

It was at that moment the world detonated and Ash truly thought he had died. The roaring was so immense it seemed to encompass everything in existence and time was lost to Ash. He registered that everything seemed to slow down, even his heart, as he felt the adrenaline surge through his nervous system.

He watched in a distracted sort of way as dust and several large rocks landed on top of him and observed a giant piece of rubble, which appeared to be a piece of wall, sail over him and collide with the startled looking man. Ash closed his eyes rather than watch that in slow motion. His eyes remained closed until the explosion had stopped.

Ash heard a sound like someone screaming underwater, and he realized that it was his own voice. He stopped, panting, and cleared the debris off himself. Everything he could hear was muffled by the rushing, swelling sound of water and his vision swam as he struggled to his feet.

The Pokemon centre was now reduced to a mound of pulverized rock interspersed with spot fires. The street was now just an extension of the destruction, and Ash suddenly understood how lucky he was to be alive instead of a bloody smear underneath a giant piece of the wreckage like his unfortunate assailant. Ash turned to study the body but looked away instantly, the remains too horrific to look at.

His eyes widened suddenly and he realized he had no idea where Pikachu was. Ash dimly heard himself call out for the Pokemon as he scattered rocks in search. His eyes caught a something yellow lying under a large rock and he stared at it in shocked silence.

"God no," Ash moaned hopelessly as he ran to rescue the creature. He knew it would be in vain as he would never be able to move such an obstruction and anything trapped underneath it would be already dead, but he couldn't help himself. His hands grasped what appeared to be a tail and pulled. It came away freely in his hands and for a terrible moment he thought he had just pulled Pikachu's tail off. Then he realized what he held in his hand was just a dishcloth.

"Pi," managed Pikachu, tugging at the leg of Ash's pants tiredly. He was bruised and cut superficially but otherwise alive. Ash blinked away tears as he gathered Pikachu in his arms and made it clear to him just how relieved he was.

The sound of a chopper approaching interrupted them, and Pikachu ran up Ash's arm to hide behind his neck. Ash saw the gleaming black helicopters cockpit rise in the air, and its tail lower as it decelerated. It was a small craft with a rounded front and a small bay on the side. The only marking it bore was the white silhouette of a winged snake.

Ash took a tentative step backward as the craft hovered for a moment above the destroyed building, turning sideways so a soldier clad in black combat gear sitting in the cradle on the side could aim at Ash with his machine gun. Ash had no options. Running would get him killed. He raised his hands in the air.

The soldier, a grim looking man with piercing blue eyes and black hair, raised his head from the sights of the P-90 and stared at Ash for a moment then turned and barked an order to the pilot, which was lost to Ash in the sound of the beating rotors.

Then, amazingly, the helicopter rose and flew back in the direction it had come.

Ash just stood there, overwhelmed by the rapidity with which his world had just turned upside-down. Pikachu tapped him softly, urging him out of his reverie. The sound of diesel motors and squealing tank tracks was audible to Ash's returning hearing. He whirled around and fled the approaching army.


	3. Survival

Note: Thanks for the reviews all :) It makes me happy.

Glad you enjoyed and I hope this chapter does not disappoint.

Sorry it took so long to update. I have been so busy I haven't had a chance to write. There's plenty of story though. I have it all planned out :)

-Theeph

-----------------------------------------------

"Ash!" screamed Misty as loud as she could. She had lost count of how many times before she had done so since the explosion. This time, however, he responded.

"Misty, where are you?" he cried, not too far away. Her keen blue eyes picked him out amid a sea of buildings. He was limping slightly, and seemed to have been battered quite severely. Many shallow cuts marked his flesh and his jaw was purple and beginning to swell, but he was alive and Pikachu was with him.

She cried out in happy relief and surprised Ash with a sudden hug. He bore it gladly for a while before the pain overwhelmed him, making him moan slightly. Misty pulled back suddenly with a serious, almost chastising expression on her face.

"Oh shit, are you ok?" Misty asked him, cupping his head in her hands for a moment, then inspecting his arms and chest for wounds.

"What on Earth happened to you? I was so worried. I waited for ages," she gushed, "I even attacked some guy with a broken bottle." Ash gave her a funny look.

"He had a broken bottle?" he asked, confused and worried.

"No I had it," Misty corrected him distractedly while she stared into the distance behind him, "What's going on with the army? They're right on top of us."

"It looks like the warning was off by about two hours. Thank you very much mayor," Ash grumbled wryly. "We have to get away from them."

"What about the city? The people?" Misty asked hesitantly.

"Screw this city, and the people will have to get by on their own. I'm not hiding around to get shot to bits, one near miss is enough," Ash cut in harshly. He waved off Misty's questions about the 'near miss' hurriedly. His mind was racing, trying to hold the rupturing bubble of his own private world together, and failing. Misty's face let slip a similar struggle.

A shockwave made the shattered glass on the pavement dance like dejected wind-chime skeletons watched over by yet another curling smoke cloud beginning to unfurl behind the towering buildings like a great amorphous snake rising out of the grass. The high frequency sound of whizzing bullets again played counterpoint to the deep bass rumble of explosions like thunder. They both paled visibly.

"Talk later, run now," grunted Ash.

"No argument here," agreed Misty, "The army is coming in from the north. So south it is?"

Ash nodded and hefted the pack Misty handed him. Pikachu jumped inside and zipped it up from the inside. The two trainers looked grimly at each other then turned away from the impending dust cloud and buzzing helicopters.

---

It took them a long time to clear the city. Barricaded families peered out at them from windows, between the cracks in hastily attached boards, as they ran through the empty, solemn streets.

At one point they noticed a company of fighters, seemingly made up of well-armed police officers and determined looking city folk, rushing past them. It seemed that the city had a defensive plan after all, instead of just mass hysteria. Misty felt a twinge of guilt that they were fleeing when the city needed defending but this wasn't their fight and they couldn't get caught up in it when the bullets started flying.

Ash looked up and saw a man with a sniper rifle running over the rooftop of a tall building, the third he'd seen so far. He and Misty had been forced to stop in their escape as the street was taken up by a convoy of armored personnel carriers and tanks that, although small, did well to not scrape along the sides of the storefronts.

The soldiers had not given them a glance, so focused they were on the oncoming skirmish. Once they had been questioned as to why they were not in a safe house but they ignored the policeman without breaking their run.

As a result of the heightened friendly military presence Ash and Misty had little trouble with criminals who had already, for the most part, fled the streets. This was a comfort as night had fallen and sprinting in the pervasive darkness was bad enough. There were no street lights on, and Ash assumed this to mean either the invaders had taken out the power station or the Lachot military command had decided to disconnect them to obscure the roads and make it easier for ambushes to be sprung.

The cool night air bit at their sweat-soaked backs refreshingly and tempered their scorching brows. Cicadas came alive to sing interlacing nocturnes: an incongruous soundtrack to hasty footsteps and war making. It was a surreal pleasure to witness seemingly sterile alleyways and crumbling arches come alive with such resonating sounds.

Eventually the explosions and gunfire began to coalesce to a single point as the city began their counter-offensive. The two ran along the deserted roads, corrugated by tank tracks depressed into asphalt never designed to hold such weight.

The offices and businesses became houses, which began to disperse as they continued. Tarmac became two muddy channels, textured with tire treads.

No houses anymore. They were clear.

Stumbling up a grassy hill after Misty, Ash called out, "Mist' hold up. I can't run any more."

She stopped and turned to him with a desperate look in her eyes. She then realized that he should not have even run the last few miles. His face was gray and he was bent over, hands clawing at his chest. He had hid it well but Ash was in no shape to continue after the day's events.

"We'll rest here for a bit then," she managed between breaths, as they both collapsed on the crest of the hill. It must have been half past nine. They had covered a distance of almost forty kilometers.

They lay there silently for a while, having neither the energy to talk nor the compulsion. Crickets chirped in the cool night air, and the fresh scent of a nearby swampy river was intermingled with the acrid smell of the smoke still in their nostrils.

The blackened city lit up with the muzzle flashes of tanks as the fighting suddenly recommenced. Tenebrous smoke clouds, rendered invisible by the night, gained brief, blazing and fleeting definition as the explosions rocked the city. It was like watching a far-off thunderstorm as lightning lit up the sky, jumping from cloud to cloud. The repetitive staccato bark of automatic weapons accompanied by the rustle of a soft breeze through long grass.

The destructive lights colored their faces amber every few moments, as the wind tossed their hair wildly about and the stars shone brightly down on them.

"It's kind of beautiful…" Misty commented, not exactly sure why it occurred to her.

Ash nodded.

---

The next morning they awoke, rather alarmed that sleep overcame them, and prepared to travel. They followed the road they had used to enter town, retracing their own steps. Sometimes they even passed the remnants of campfires that had lain undisturbed since they left them days before.

The echoes of battle were growing infrequent; the fighting seemed somehow more dispersed, with blissful periods of silence in-between short, sudden peals of gunfire and muzzle flashes. It became apparent to the dirty, exhausted pair that the main body of the army had remained to pacify the city, now visible to them in the distance from the precipitous, bushy escarpment they were climbing.

To their dismay they could see a steady blue stream of what appeared to be uniformed foot soldiers trooping out of the city and dispersing into the wilderness. Their hearts sunk with the proof the city had been successfully overrun before their eyes.

Advance scouts and patrols for the next stage of the incursion were shuffling out of the gates they had passed the previous day like an undulating centipede. To make things worse it appeared that this progression had been going on for some time.

Misty reached the top of the cliff, and Ash followed soon after. They lay panting on the edge for a moment before sitting up to talk. The heat and humidity were both oppressive and combined with their climb it made them damp with sweat and irritable.

Misty gathered her hair, now a dark red color from her sweat, into a loose ponytail at the back of her head, clawing aggressively at a few impossible strands stuck to the sheen of her forehead. Ash took his shirt and hat off but Misty managed to dissuade him from shedding his sneakers, which would no doubt smell unbearable by now.

"It's really hot," complained Misty, half hoping it would trigger Ash to break his daylong silence. It did not.

"What are we going to do about the army?" she finally cut to chase. Ash remained mute for a long while and Misty was about to ask again when he answered.

"We have a good head start on them, and they aren't looking for us in particular. They won't catch us up as long as we keep moving," said Ash, deliberating upon each world.

"But we're not military trained. They'll be a lot faster than us," Misty pointed out.

"I said we'll be fine," Ash said stubbornly, "They're nowhere near us."

"You can't be sure of that!" Misty was becoming more and more annoyed with him.

Ash inhaled sharply and was about to lecture her loudly when Pikachu's little yellow hand tugged at his sleeve urgently. He looked down at the creature, who motioned silence and then pointed towards the precipice they had just climbed.

Ash and Misty exchanged a wild-eyed glance, their anger forgotten, and crept over to the edge on their stomachs.

There, about eight meters below, was a soldier with his rifle shouldered, kneeling to examine some footprints. He glanced upward and the trainers drew back suddenly to avoid being seen. When they worked up the courage to look again the soldier was standing, his rifle now at the ready, and holding up a closed fist. He then splayed his fingers open and motioned to either side of himself.

It was as if dragon's teeth had been scattered and warriors were rising from the ground. The soldiers, incredibly camouflaged despite the color of their uniform, displayed the utmost professionalism as they rose from their hiding places and spread out in a concentric circle from the leader. Nine in total, all armed and deadly.

Once, when Misty was younger, she was fishing in the river that ran close to her family's house. She found a large spider and, being contemptuous of spiders, she decided to drop a flat river stone on it. The spider, which had recently given birth, was carrying its family of eight hundred on its back. When the baby spiders 'abandoned ship' it was like watching a perfectly circular shockwave ripple out from underneath the stone.

Misty had acquired her fear of insects that day, but had never felt it to such acuity again until this moment. Cold fear scuttled up her extremities and made a nest in her stomach.

Spiders were hunting them.

---

They ran through the knee-high grass at break-neck speed, leaving blatant trails in their wake. Every now and then they would stumble over a rock or fallen tree branch and leave a speck of blood, or a torn piece of clothing behind. It was not surprising that the enemy found them. Anyone could have followed a trail like that.

It happened when night had fallen on their second day out from the city and they were moving into a dense forest. They were tired, bloody, and wretched. To exhausted to talk or think, the two trainers trudged along in the gloomy blue half-light, being bitten out of their minds by mosquitoes. Their arms were regularly brushing as they instinctively drew closer from the cold. Their heads were beginning to loll from palpable fatigue. Ash stumbled and fell to his knees; somehow dragging Misty with him, at the precise time the first shot was fired.

The sedate melodies of nocturnal animals singing to each other were annihilated instantly with the crashing gunfire. Bullets rained on the space where the teenagers' heads were milliseconds before. Ash and Misty were both reverted to an almost primal state, and they crawled on their stomachs away from the bright lights and loud sounds.

Misty was the first to struggle to her feet and, sensing Ash wasn't far behind, ran like she never believed possible. Vestiges of energy she was previously unaware of now made themselves very apparent and ready for use. She was happy to oblige.

Ash was following Misty, who was now a few meters in front of him. He focused intently on her back, clearing his mind of anything outside this tunnel vision, and ignored the painful buzzing sounds of bullets whipping past his ears or bits of obliterated plants and trees striking him in the face and arms.

Ash was amazed at how fast she was running. He was beginning to fall behind when he heard an incongruous sound, like a water-balloon popping, followed by Misty's short shrill scream. He watched her twist like a string puppet that had been suddenly jerked backward and over upon itself. A bright red spray of blood erupted from her torso in a perfectly shaped arc and splattered over leaves.

She twisted as she fell through a cloud of wispy gun smoke, facing her right as she toppled to the ground, landing on her own calf-muscles painfully. Ash's mind hid the implications of such a sight from him in order to protect itself. He ran to where she lay and, displaying that indefinable strength possessed only by those in great danger, hoisted her over his shoulder and ran even faster than before.

The next lucky bullet would have ventilated both of them, but fortunately it never came. A softer, organic crash alerted Ash to someone on his left jumping out of a tree. He had just enough time to register a human silhouette throwing some sort of bundle before he resumed running single-mindedly.

The forest lit up a brilliant orange as the home-made Molotov flooded fire onto three unfortunate soldiers. The enemy leader barked orders and the remaining men took cover behind tree trunks or boulders, laying down suppression fire at the unknown aggressor. Erratic gunfire answered this move, from various directions, with various calibers and types of weapons.

Meanwhile Ash carried Misty past more emerging shadows. When one of them shouted out an order to stop him he cursed inwardly, having no energy to do so outwardly. He scurried away from the sound, but found himself running back toward the battle on a different tangent.

He was treated to a graphic front line view of the huddled soldiers being killed one by one in the ambush. He recognized the face of the leader moments before it fragmented like a watermelon dropped from a great height.

Everything too much to bear, Ash saw a place where the ground had fallen away, ran to it and found himself sliding down a collapsing embankment. He landed on all fours and emptied his stomach onto the soft earth. Misty rolled off his back and moaned something incoherent when she hit the ground.

They both collapsed and listened to the final dying screams of the frightened soldiers as they were systematically put down. When it was over the silence was brief before nature resumed its nighttime ambiance. The inadvertent cruelty of the oblivious night animals struck Ash as he lay in his own vomit, and he envied them their casual acceptance of the world.

When this inane thought had fled his recovering mind he pushed himself onto his knees and rolled Misty onto her back. Her cloudy eyes met his and she murmured something that sounded like 'Hi Ash' before turning her head away and closing her eyes.

"Mist'!" Ash shouted, slapping the side of her face repeatedly.

She moaned again and she turned her face back to him. Her eyelids fluttered briefly but did not open. Misty's cream colored traveling blouse was torn and bloody. The darkest part of the stain centered on her right shoulder just below the collarbone where the torn pieces of fabric, along with leaves and mud, had clumped together in a giant black blood clot.

"Misty!" Ash yelled again, desperation creeping into his voice. He shook her violently, tears blurring his vision of her.

He barely registered the staccato clicking of a shell being rammed into the chamber of a poised shotgun, cocked and ready. He only reacted when the barrel bashed into the back of his head and a harsh voice barked the order to turn around.

He did so with a large degree of apathy. His mind was too consumed with worry for Misty to care about other item on the seemingly endless list of threats to his safety. The gun barrel jerked upwards and another order was issued, to which Ash responded by getting to his feet.

The gun was held, not by a soldier, but a man dressed in a padded khaki overcoat and faded denim jeans. Bright green eyes glared suspiciously out from a black woolen balaclava. A dozen other figures stood a step behind him, all clad similarly. The man's gloved finger began to tense on the trigger.

Ash clasped his fingers behind his head gingerly and raised his head with defiance. A ray of moonlight caught the curve of his cheek as his face rose, fully illuminating one half while leaving the other in shadow.

"Wait!" cried a different voice and one of the figures from the back row ran forward and raised the butt of the gun up and away. "Don't shoot, he's one of us."

He pulled the balaclava away, releasing a shock of dark brown hair, streaked blonde in places. It fell away from his face as he ran forward, revealing a strong jaw-line and an intent, serious stare. Ash's eyes widened in surprise and recognition as he was engulfed in a bear hug.

"Brock!" he managed before a temporary relief overcame him and he wept in the strong arms of his best friend.


End file.
